


all the sparks you're trying to hide

by pageleaf



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Barebacking, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Post-Episode 6, Top!Yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 17:40:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8542633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pageleaf/pseuds/pageleaf
Summary: Viktor's never seen Yuuri like this.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this episode was......a lot. yuuri in this episode was A LOT
> 
> title is from from "light it up" by onerepublic
> 
> in my head, yuuri and viktor have been in a relationship since sometime between ep 4 and ep 5

Viktor's never seen Yuuri like this.

He has his hands over his mouth for the entirety of the short program, heart beating itself against his ribcage, barely breathing. He can't take his eyes off Yuuri—just like Yuuri wanted.

From that first smug, heavy-lidded glance to the last sequence, Yuuri fills the arena with a level of raw sexual tension he's never attained before. He lands every one of this jumps flawlessly, _effortlessly_ , and he doesn't even seem to be thinking about them, his every movement and expression dedicated to being as seductive as possible.

It's working. Viktor wants him so fucking much he can't breathe.

But when Yuuri finishes the routine and the crowd roars, Viktor finds the breath to yell triumphantly, arms in the air in celebration, because Yuuri did it, and it was _perfect_.

This is his excuse for why he can't keep his hands off Yuuri—even more than usual—draping himself over Yuuri's shoulder after the judges announce his score and telling him how good he was, how good he made Viktor feel, watching him. But Yuuri isn't listening anymore, staring blankly at his score before it sinks in. And Yuuri deserves to linger in this moment of being first, even though Viktor feels like he's going to to vibrate out of his own skin.

So he keeps it together through everyone else's routines, though he keeps one arm around Yuuri the whole time (if Yuuri notices something's up, he doesn't say anything). He keeps it together through the final interviews too. Then when the reporters have all left, and he and Yuuri are alone in their corner of the dressing room, Viktor grabs at Yuuri's hand with control frayed to a breaking point, and says his name in a choked voice.

Yuuri looks at him curiously. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Viktor shakes his head. "Nothing's wrong. The opposite."

"Hmm?" Yuuri tilts his head, then realization seems to dawn on him. "Oh?" Just like before the routine, he twists his hand in Viktor's grasp until it's Viktor's wrist in his grasp instead. He tugs Viktor a little bit closer. And just like then, Viktor's breath leaves him in a rush. "You liked it that much?" Yuuri asks, rubbing at the bones of Viktor's wrist with his thumb.

"Isn't that what you wanted?" Viktor replies. "To make me feel good watching you?"

Yuuri smiles. "Who said it was for you?"

Viktor rears back, indignant. "Who else would you be skating for?"

Yuuri covers his mouth with his free hand and laughs. Viktor pouts.

"You're teasing."

"Guilty as charged," Yuuri says, and puts both hands around Viktor's waist and _yanks_ until they're pressed against each other chest to thigh. Yuuri still hasn't changed, still even has his skates on, so he's just as tall as Viktor. Viktor's hands come up to brace on Yuuri's upper arms.

"I've never seen you like this," he breathes, the refrain of the night.

"Is it bad?" Yuuri asks quietly.

Viktor makes a small noise of protest and drops his head to rest on Yuuri's shoulder. "No," he says in a strained voice. "Not bad at all."

"You _do_ like it," Yuuri says, surprised and self-satisfied in equal measure. Viktor is embarrassed and embarrassingly into it.

" _Yuu_ ri," he whines, lifting his head. "Please."

Yuuri huffs out another laugh and kisses Viktor, bringing up one hand to cradle Viktor's jaw. Viktor moans into it, already so far gone. He tries to pull back to tell Yuuri they should really go back to the hotel—but Yuuri doesn't let him, holds him still, and Viktor gasps, feeling the heat of Yuuri's hands on his body too keenly.

He presses himself forward until Yuuri stumbles backward into the wall, pulling Viktor flush against him. His thigh slots in between both of Viktor's, and Viktor loses himself a little, grinds forward until his head falls forward again and he pants helplessly into Yuuri's neck.

There's the sound of a door slamming open, and then raucous laughter—the other skaters. Shit. Viktor has no problem letting them all get an eyeful, but Yuuri tends to be embarrassed by things like that.

Just as he expected, Yuuri pushes Viktor away reluctantly, leaving Viktor feeling cold and bereft. "Can we put this on hold until the hotel?"

Viktor sighs. "Yuuri, you're killing me."

Yuuri shakes his head. "You'll be fine. Come on, if you can be patient," and here he fixes Viktor with a heated glance that Viktor feels in his gut, "I'll make it worth your while."

Oh. Viktor exhales shakily. "Okay." He frowns. "You still need to change."

"Right," Yuuri says, looking a little surprised, like he'd forgotten he was still wearing his costume and skates. Viktor decides to take that as a compliment.

"Here, let me," Viktor says, kneeling down to unlace Yuuri's skates for him. He doesn't question why he wants to do it, just knows that he does.

It pays off, because now it's Yuuri's turn to sound shaky as he says, "Viktor..."

The moment is interrupted by the arrival of some of the others—Phichit, Leo, and Guang-Hong—into the room. Viktor finishes unraveling the laces and stands up carefully, letting Yuuri brace a hand on his shoulder to take the skates off.

"You're still here?" Leo calls.

"Just leaving! Yuuri's tired," Viktor says pleasantly, stemming any time-consuming small talk, and Yuuri's lips quirk upward briefly.

Somehow, Yuuri finishes changing and they make it past the other skaters without incident (although Phichit shoots them a knowing smirk as they leave the room), and out of the arena without running into any media. Viktor calls them a cab while Yuuri texts his parents, bag hoisted over his shoulder.

"They must be happy," Viktor remarks, now that the cool air has cleared his head enough that he can focus on something over than getting his hands on Yuuri right this instant.

"Yeah," Yuuri responds, and he sounds so _happy_ that Viktor feels joy swell up again in him as well.

It makes him a little more accommodating. "Do you want to call them?"

Yuuri seems to consider it, but then glances at Viktor sidelong. "It can wait till tomorrow," he says with intent, and Viktor shivers.

A cab pulls up along the curb and Viktor hustles a laughing Yuuri inside, climbing in after him.

"Forget me," Yuuri says, as Viktor closes the door behind them and the driver peels off from the curb. "I've never seen _you_ like this."

"Your fault," Viktor says, and shuffles forward until he's halfway into Yuuri's lap, kissing along the side of his jaw.

"Viktor!" Yuuri admonishes, although he doesn't sound that displeased. Viktor smirks.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," Viktor says, and reaches a hand between their bodies to slip under the hem of Yuuri's jacket. After waiting the whole night, the first touch of Yuuri's bare skin is like electricity.

Yuuri huffs out a breath, warm against Viktor's cheek. "Hold on a second," he says, and unzips his jacket so that Viktor can reach more easily.

"I'm sorry," Viktor murmurs. "You told me to be patient, but I can't wait any longer."

"What do you want?" Yuuri asks, clutching at Viktor's hip.

What does he want? "I—" Viktor chokes out, and ducks his head.

Yuuri frowns and grabs at him quickly enough that he can't pull all the way back. "What is it?"

"I want you to fuck me," Viktor says.

Yuuri's eyes widen. They haven't done that before. Not that Viktor hasn't asked, but Yuuri's never seemed to be too into the idea. Now though, Viktor _needs_ it. He doesn't know what it was about Yuuri's performance, but seeing him so...confident and in control—if Yuuri says no, Viktor doesn't know what he'll—

"Okay," Yuuri says, breathless. "But we're still in the back of the car, okay? So keep your clothes on for now, and keep your hands to yourself okay?"

Viktor groans and falls back into his own seat, painfully hard, and knocks his head against the window despondently.

"You're so dramatic." Yuuri reaches out and places a hand high on Viktor's thigh, fingers brushing very slightly at Viktor's inseam.

"Yuuuuuri," Viktor complains, squirming in his seat.

Yuuri smiles at him sweetly. "Don't worry," he says. "I'll take care of you."

Viktor clenches his fists until his nails bite into his palms, to keep from throwing himself at Yuuri again.

The car pulls up in front of their hotel, and Viktor gets it together enough to pay the driver and grab Yuuri's bag from the trunk.

Neither of them are very inclined to linger. Yuuri takes the bag from him and then catches his hand and holds on to it through the lobby and into the elevator, where he only lets go to punch the button for their floor.

"Okay?" Viktor asks carefully, because Yuuri looks a little wild around the eyes.

Yuuri turns his head from where he'd been staring at the elevator doors, and Viktor catches his breath. Yuuri finally looks like he's as far gone as Viktor's been feeling. That answers any final doubts Viktor had about Yuuri wanting this just as much.

"You liked it," Yuuri says, and Viktor jerks back to attention. "You liked the way I acted during the short program today."

He's already said it, but still Viktor repeats, "You know I did."

"Do you know why I chose to skate it like that?" Yuuri's says with studied casualness.

Viktor hums. "No, why?"

Yuuri smiles. "I was jealous." He laughs, bright and amused. "Can you believe that? Everyone was saying how much they missed you, how sad it was that I had stolen you away, and you looked so _comfortable_ with all of them—so I got jealous."

The doors open onto their floor, and Yuuri pulls Viktor out by the hand, silencing the protest before Viktor can voice it.

"But then I thought," Yuuri says, "they're right. I have stolen you away. I'm the only one you want now, right?" He looks at Viktor, then, eyes dark and scorching.

" _Yes_." Viktor's burning up; he feels like he might die of frustration at this point.

"Good." They reach the door to their room, which Yuuri keys open and then pushes Viktor through, before kicking it shut behind them.

"Drop the bag," Viktor demands, and Yuuri does it with a smirk.

"Take your clothes off," Yuuri orders in turn. Viktor swallows and obeys, shrugging off his jacket and dumping it on the floor. He pulls his shirt over his head and drops it, and the rest of this clothes quickly follow.

Viktor has never been self-conscious about his body. So standing here right now, naked while Yuuri watches him with the same kind of can't-believe-his-luck awe he had when they first started doing this, is the most in his element Viktor has felt all night.

"You too." Viktor tugs at Yuuri's sleeve until Yuuri relents and shucks his clothes off as well.

When they're both free of clothes, Viktor doesn't hesitate before herding Yuuri towards the bed, grabbing the lube from his travel bag on the way.

"No taking it slow, tonight?" Yuuri asks.

Viktor glares at him. "If you tease even a little bit more, I won't be responsible for my actions."

Yuuri laughs—and Viktor feels like he's been laughed at enough tonight, thank you, so he presses Yuuri back onto the bed and climbs on top of him, before leaning in to taste the laugh right from his mouth.

"Oh," Yuuri says, still giggling lightly, before wrapping his arms fully around Viktor. "Eager?"

It's a stupid question, at this point; Viktor growls and grabs one of Yuuri's hands, pressing the bottle of lube into it forcefully. "Unless you want me to do it myself," he says crankily.

"Nooo, no no I got it," Yuuri protests, trying fruitlessly to pull the lid off the lube for a few seconds before unscrewing it, sheepishly. Viktor trembles, helplessly endeared but also so, so desperate.

"Please," he says, voice cracking.

Yuuri's expression turns serious. "I've got you." He pours a generous amount of lube onto his hand and slicks up three of his fingers, while Viktor shivers with anticipation. This much, at least, they've done before. But that just means Viktor knows exactly how good it feels, and he _wants_ it.

"Come here," Yuuri says, wrapping one arm around Viktor's shoulders and reaching the other down to his ass. Viktor's arms falter and he collapses on top of Yuuri, which has the added effect of making it for Yuuri to reach—oh. That.

Yuuri presses his finger in a little further, and Viktor could cry with how perfect it is, and how much it's still not enough.

"Add another, I can take it," Viktor pleads. Yuuri trusts him and doesn't argue, inserting his middle finger as well, pressing up and crooking—just slightly forward, until he brushes against Viktor's prostate. Viktor hides his face in Yuuri's neck and _moans_ , beyond words.

Yuuri stretches him out with two fingers for a few minutes until Viktor's squirming against him, cock rubbing against Yuuri's abdomen in a way that refuses to satisfy him, only works him up further. And maybe Yuuri remembers Viktor's thinly-veiled threat of violence if he kept teasing, because he adds a third finger soon after without Viktor even needing to ask. Which is good, because Viktor doesn't think he'd be able to. He's too busy whimpering through gritted teeth, trying not to lose it.

Another few minutes of torture, and then Yuuri says, "Enough?"

Viktor nods desperately, and Yuuri kisses his on the cheek—lightly, almost chastely. If Viktor weren't about to burn up into ashes, he'd find it hilarious.

Instead, he just clenches his eyes tight against the empty feeling of Yuuri pulling his fingers out, only for them to pop open when Yuuri rolls them both over in a swift, powerful movement.

"You wanted me in control, right?" Yuuri asks. It isn't a question, so Viktor doesn't bother trying to answer. He wraps both of his legs immediately around Yuuri and pulls him in as close as he can get, so that Yuuri's cock is bumping right up against his ass.

"Do it," Viktor manages. Yuuri braces one hand firmly against Viktor's thigh, spreading him open. Viktor flushes, hot. "Please, fuck me."

"Shh," Yuuri says absently, holding him still with that hand and with the other, grabbing his own dick—god, he must be achingly hard, too, how is he holding it together when Viktor is failing so hard?—and resting it against Viktor's entrance. "Ready?"

" _Yuuri_."

"Viktor," Yuuri says, not quite a comeback, and pushes in, all the way, in one long, slow slide.

Viktor clutches at Yuuri's shoulders and gasps, mouth open on a silent yell.

"Are you okay?" Yuuri asks, concerned.

"Just—move," Viktor grits out.

Yuuri takes Viktor's hips in a strong grip and starts to move, barely warming up before fucking him earnest, and Viktor is so glad, because he didn't have the patience for a slow start.

He shakes his head when Yuuri reaches for his cock, says, "I don't need it." As it is, Viktor's about one, maybe two minutes from coming apart, and he wants to see Yuuri go over the edge with him.

But Yuuri has different plans. "You think can come just like this?" he says, smug in the same way he was on the ice. "You want me that much, huh?"

"Fuck," Viktor curses, hips jolting forward against his will.

"You're so eager, Viktor," Yuuri says fondly, leaning down to kiss him. "You want me more than you've ever wanted anyone."

Viktor shakes his head, not in refusal, never in refusal because it's _true_ , but just because he's overwhelmed.

"I love that about you," Yuuri confesses, character falling away from him and revealing the softness underneath. "I love you."

And embarrassingly, that's what shoves Viktor headfirst into orgasm.

"Yuuri," he sobs, loud and drawn-out as it barrels through him. The occupants of the room next door are going to hate them in the morning. Not that Viktor cares.

"Ah, Viktor—" Yuuri cries out, short and sharp, hips losing their rhythm.

Viktor moans in satisfaction. "Yuuri," he sighs. "I love you too."

Yuuri whimpers. "Shit—"

"Come on," Viktor pleads, and is rewarded with Yuuri coming inside of him.

Yuuri stays still, panting, into the afterglow. "Was it good?"

Viktor cracks a smile. "What happened to the confident Yuuri from before?" Yuuri pokes at his shoulder until Viktor rolls his eyes and says, "Yes, Yuuri, it was...very, very, good."

"Ah." Yuuri blushes so prettily, and even after all this time Viktor can't stop staring at it. "G-good."

"You were right," Viktor remarks, turning his head to face the window. His hair falls, sweat-soaked and limp, against his face.

Yuuri pulls out, falls back onto the bed with a sigh. "About what?"

Viktor rolls over to face away from him. "I've never wanted anyone like I want you." Viktor isn't shy about it, exactly, but he still whispers it, like a confession.

Yuuri scoots forward and presses a kiss to the back of his neck. "I've wanted you ever since I knew what 'want' meant."

It does wonders for Viktor's ego. But more than that, it soothes the last bits of his frayed nerves, and he relaxes back against Yuuri's chest. He's always known, on some level, that Yuuri wanted him, even when they didn't know each other that well. But this—this is different. Wanting and being wanted; loving and being loved.

Being someone else's inspiration.

"I love you," Viktor says again.

He feels Yuuri smile against his shoulder. "Go to sleep. Free skate is tomorrow."

For once in his life, Viktor does what he's told.

**Author's Note:**

> on tumblr as pageleaf, if you need to find me! come talk to me :)


End file.
